


Not enough Plutonium

by PotterWhoLockLin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring!Dean, The Song Remains the Same, Time Travel, unconscious!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterWhoLockLin/pseuds/PotterWhoLockLin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That missing scene from The song remains the same. You know you want to read it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not enough Plutonium

"This will weaken me."

Well, how was Dean meant to know that was Angel-speak for, "this will make me scare the living shit out of the Winchesters by coughing up blood before passing out"?

After Sam had proclaimed that Cas was "sorta breathing" (very helpful, Sam), the pair of them decided to move Castiel before someone called the cops. 

So, after twenty minutes of stressing and trying to find a motel, all the while attempting to make Castiel look healthy enough to pass for functional, the pair of them eventually settled on a quiet little number which looked vaguely habitable. Sam volunteered to man the phone book, which left Dean on Guardian Angel duty (yes, he got the irony). 

Dean slung Cas's arm round his neck, linking his own around Cas's waist. The angel hung a dead weight in Dean's embrace, head lolling against his shoulder, and Dean reflexively checked Castiel's breathing. Clear - almost. The sooner he got him lying down, the better.

He dragged Cas through the door of the motel, pasting a cheery smile on his face.

"Hey, fellas. How much for a Honeymoon Suite?" 

"Five bucks a night. What happened to your pal there?"

Dean looked down at the angel in his arms. "Oh, this guy? He got a little smashed, if you know what I mean." Almost literally, he mentally added.

The desk clerk chuckled. "Can't hold his drink, huh?"

"Something like that. Could you make sure he's not disturbed?"

The clerk recovered a key. "Sure, no problem. Hey, wanna buy some dope?"

Dean stared at him, sorely tempted. Would Sam notice...? Well, Sam wasn't really the problem, he admitted. How would his parents let him inside if he turned up drugged up on weed?

"I'd better not," he reluctantly replied, exchanging the key for a wad of cash. 

"Suit yourself," the clerk grunted, and settled himself back into his chair to count the money. Dean hitched Castiel upright, and made for the stairs.

He got Cas up to the first floor without too much difficulty, with only one near miss as a cleaner brushed past him, nearly toppling the pair of them over the safety rail. Dean found the right number, and let them both in.

Dumping Cas on the bed, he cracked the kinks out of his neck before bending down to heave him into a more comfortable position. Castiel really wasn't as light as an angel should be, Dean mused. Less "light" and more hamburger. 

He undid Cas's top few shirt buttons and untied his tie, then pulled off his shoes, placing them beside the bed. He elected to leave the trenchcoat on; Cas had a thing about his coat (much like him and the Impala), and this way he would be warmer. 

There was also that minor matter of saving his parents. Cas would understand. 

"There ya go, buddy," he muttered, and immediately felt stupid. It wasn't like the angel could hear him.

Just before he left, Dean decided to write a note. He scribbled a short letter on a helpfully provided notepad next to the phone, then tucked it into Cas's hand.

He thought about how Castiel had gotten hurt, because of them. It was his and Sam's fault. 

They had nearly killed a freakin' angel. 

He dropped his head into hands and groaned.

Oh God, he was so going back to Hell.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Castiel groaned quietly and rolled over, feeling a piece of paper in his hand crumple under his weight. He wasn't very used to pain; he'd been injured, sure, and he had died any number of times, but that pain usually came in short, sharp bursts. This pain was a long, slow ache that radiated through his body and peaked at his head. Even his toes hurt.

He coughed a couple of times before pulling himself upright, smearing away yet another trickle of blood from his nose. He rescued the paper.

Cas-  
We've gone to find Mom and Dad. If we're not back here when you wake up, then we're either dead of some friendly angel has sent us Back to the Future. I'm hoping the last one. Either way, you can leave without us if you we're not there.  
See you on the other side.  
Dean.

Castiel was fairly certain that there was a reference in there.

He couldn't feel Sam or Dean's presence in this time, alive or dead. So hopefully the second option had taken place. Cas checked the date on the letter, and then on the clock on the table. He had been unconscious for nearly a week. They must have left by now.

Cas went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He looked like death (well, not literally. But he'd recently started using human expressions more and more frequently). There were bags under his eyes, he was bone pale, and there were blood smears still visible at the corners of his mouth and nose. He attempted to make himself look vaguely presentable with the toiletries provided. He wasn't actually sure why he did this; he wasn't going anywhere except straight to the Winchesters. Hopefully. And anyway, he was probably going to end up looking worse on the other side.

Exiting the bathroom, Castiel did up the buttons of his shirt that had mysteriously come undone, retied his tie, and located his shoes.

When he was ready, he flew.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Cas landed behind Sam, in the right place at the right time. For literally the first time in his many lives.

"Castiel!" He heard Sam gasp as he caught sight of his swaying form in the mirror, and he felt him grab his arm. "Hey. Hey, hey. Woah, woah, woah, woah." Cas couldn't work out why Sam felt the need to repeat his words.

"Cas!" Dean cried, hurrying towards the pair and catching hold of his other arm. Cas's vessel wasn't short (6ft exactly, measured at Dean's insistence) but Dean was 6ft 2", and Sam 6ft 4". Castiel was suspended uncomfortably between the pair of them like washing on a line, ears nearly touching his shoulders as he sagged.

"We got you," Sam confirmed. As if Cas didn't know.

"You son of a bitch. You made it." Dean sounded as if he could barely believe it himself.

Cas held his hands up and, sure enough, they were still there. "I...I did? I'm very surprised." He looked up at Sam, then Dean, with a half-smile on his face. He was back.

Then Castiel's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.

"Woah! You're ok," Sam said. 

"Woah, woah, woah, woah." Dean wasn't sure why he kept repeating his words. He could imagine what Cas would have to say about it.

"Bed?" he asked Sam.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam replied. Together they heaved Cas over to the bed, dropping him onto it and leaving his feet hanging over the edge. Dean felt an odd sense of déjà vu. 

"Well," he said to Sam, "I could use that drink now."


End file.
